Friday, May 16, 2014

Waiting for Harvey by Lydia North

My name is Harvey Cloutier. I was born in Maine in 1901 and I died
here in 1924. I've been patient long enough now! You need to hear my
story!
When you've heard it you'll understand why these woods are rightfully mine.
The spirits who know tell me you'll need to know some of this to get your copy of 'Waiting for Harvey'

*****

Blurb:

Seated beside an old woman who was holding a sleeping baby,
I stared out at the dark roadside. Humming softly, the bus rumbled along Route 1,
headed north to Maine. I texted John to let him know I'd be arriving at the bus
station in Portland at about 4:00 in the morning. I fell asleep and woke from
another dream about the cabin. The old woman glared at me, and I felt certain
that I'd called out in my sleep.

"Hello," John roused from his sleep to answer my
call. I felt guilty for waking him, but I needed to talk to him.

"It's me, John."

"Erik!" the deep, rumbling voice replied.

"Sorry to wake you."

"It's okay. What's wrong?"

"I'm on the bus. I dreamed about the cabin again.

"Okay."

"I'm thinking maybe I'll just stay at a hotel for a day
or two and go home as soon as the storm is done."

"What's going on, Erik?"

"These dreams have me a little freaked out."

"They're only dreams."

"It's stirring up stuff I haven't thought about in
forever."

"Erik, leave the past where it belongs."

"You don't get it, John."

"You're making this trip into something it's not. Don't
get all crazy about it. Go up to the cabin, do some writing, and go home again.
No reason to make it complicated."

"Can you take some time off and hang out up there for a
week?"

"No, I have a ton of work to be done and the storm is
just complicating things."

"John, do you remember?"

"Remember what?" he demanded.

"That summer..."

"Stop, Erik! It was two decades ago, and there is
nothing to be gained by dragging it all up again."

"Was there someone there?"

"NO!" he shouted, leaving my ear ringing. "It
was a kid's game! We were playing with a store bought game. There was nothing
creepy but our imaginations. I don't have time for the crap, Erik. Are you
going up there or not? If you're just staying at a hotel here, you can get a
cab when your bus gets in, and I'll meet you for supper."

"Yea...yeah, I'm going up," he stammered, fighting
the urge to pull the cord and make the bus driver stop. I wanted to get off and
hitchhike back to New York. "Yeah, I'll meet you at the bus station. I'll
buy you breakfast."

"We need to hit LL Bean and Hannaford's for supplies
before we head north," he declared. He was trying to change the tone of
the conversation before hanging up.

"Thanks, John," I muttered. "Sorry, I woke
you."

"It's okay. I'll see you in a few hours," he
replied, and he was gone.